Just Another Day
by mimiam
Summary: John and Sherlock are trying to solve a new case: a woman is missing her cat but has proof that her cat food is fast disappearing despite this fact, a dull case, Sherlock and John agree, which quickly turns into a major case. Meanwhile John has made it his mission to understand Sherlock's mind. Sorry, I am terrible at summaries as you can see. Hope you enjoy and please review! :)
1. The Clue

I had a moment alone. Sherlock was in the drawing room eating an apple, pondering a new case; one where a woman had lost her cat. A dull case one must admit but Sherlock was agitated by now, he had not had a case in weeks...Oh a moment alone, such joy. I had time to write on my blog...though I had never liked writing it. I preferred something more suiting to this occupation...if you could call it that. I was observing, deducing, understanding him. As a doctor I was naturally interested in the human mind. Sherlock's twisted mind was the most fascinating one I had ever encountered to date. I couldn't just dismiss him as a sociopath...I couldn't because he wasn't one.

There was a clatter in the kitchen and I was brought back to reality. I felt the urge to get up but decided not to, I wanted to deduce a little more. I heard Mrs Hudson's voice dissuading Sherlock to go out as it was past nine. A reluctant sigh of agreement seemed to be Sherlock's only reaction to this and I sat back, thinking. Suddenly I had a thought, an epiphany: He was not an atheist; he clearly follows Mrs Hudson's orders which implies that he followed his mother's orders. Now his mother was obviously dead, he and Mycroft always referred to her in the second past tense, meaning she has been dead for quite some time. The way Sherlock always behaves like a child suggests she died when he was quite young and the fact that he still respected the orders of someone who resembles his dead mother could only mean that he is a god fearing man. I stood back. I realised my actions and marvelled at my thoughts, some of Sherlock's touch must have rubbed off on me. I needed to confront him with it. I couldn't wait to see his face.

I hurried down the stairs minding the little rug that had been placed at the bottom of it and burst into the room.

Sherlock was in his favourite seat; a brown leather chair, still working on his apple. When he caught sight of me he sighed.

"What?" I asked irritatedly.

"It doesn't seem to work."

"What doesn't seem to work?" I asked curiously now.

"This," he held the apple into the sunlight that was streaming in from the window. I shook my head, not understanding,

"Apparently an apple a day does NOT keep the doctor away." he said and I chuckled.

"Really, Sherlock?"

"Yes, John." he grinned like a little child...I reckon you could describe him as that; a child, a small, lost, clever child that had a habit of making crime it's highest priority.

I took a seat and looked at him. He picked up The Guardian and started to read. I sat awhile, not knowing if I should disturb him or not but eventually he spoke for me.

"Now, do you want to tell me what you've found out?" Sherlock looked at me with his blue eyes that, if I didn't know better, I would think could see through walls. I cleared my throat.

"What?"

"About me, John. Your hands, you have ink on them, you clearly haven't written on your blog," he sneered in disgust "or about our case." I was about to interrupt him but he held his finger in the air stopping me.

"Let me finish," he looked at me expectantly. I nodded.

"You came down in a hurried manner, however you did not immediately make conversation. If you had been looking at our case, you wouldn't have hesitated. So it's something about me." He put down his newspaper and grinned.

"Tell me." He leaned forward.

"Well, I believe you're a god fearing man." I declared triumphantly.

"Is that so?" He laughed "Explain..."

"You obey Mrs Hudson's orders which implies that you followed your own mother's orders. You see her as a representative of your mother. However, I deduce that your mother is already dead...you and Mycroft always referred to her in the second past tense so she must have died a while back. Often you behave in a childish manner which suggests that she died when you were quite young, you didn't know any better. And finally the fact that you respect the wishes of someone who resembles your passed mother could only mean that you are a god fearing man." I paused to let it sink in.

"...Well done, John. Very well done...I am an atheist though-"

"Damn!" I cried out.

"I respect women because I pity them, they have been suppressed for the last 500 years and all the time before that. They deserve a little respect." he continued, ignoring my outburst.

"Was I right about anything?" I asked disappointedly.

"My mother has passed-"

"I'm so sorry."

"She died when I was 18. Her name was Violet...Violet Holmes, a vibrant woman, a lovely lady..." he shook his head trying to clear his mind.

"Sherlock, I am very sorry to hear that."

"No, no its fine. Don't worry, you didn't...know." he looked up frantically and I knew in a second that he had an epiphany about the case. He ran out of the building leaving me sitting in the drawing room. A moment later he was back, grabbing his coat.

"Come on, John, do you need an invitation?" he asked before disappearing again. Reluctantly I followed him out. Mycroft was right, I did miss the excitement...


	2. A Strange Game

We took a cab to the client's house. Her name was Angela Gerard. We spoke not one word for the first ten minutes but after several attempts to break the ice that had formed after his new discovery, he finally spoke.

"The cat, John, the cat. Did you have a look at the file?" I looked at him in an annoyed manner. Of course I hadn't, he had studied it unceasingly.

"It's a Khao Manee!" he exclaimed and sighed when my only response was a

"Hmm?"

"A Khao Manee...my God, what do they teach you in the Army."

"I don't think that cat breeds were high up on the list of things we needed to know in order to survive in Afghanistan." I tried explain but he turned from me.

"A Khao Manee is a very rare breed of cat. It has one silver and one golden eye. Their name translates to "White Jewel" due to their white fur. They were bred in Thailand for around 650 years and spread to other countries in the 60s..."

"So...what, Mrs Gerard has an expensive cat...?" I asked carefully.

"YES! Yes, but more expensive than she thinks-" before he could finish, we arrived at Mrs Gerard's house. We got out and looked at her house. On her lawn were several porcelain and metal garden ornaments in the form of a cat. It was clear she was consumed with felines. We made our way across the lawn taking care to avoid the "cats". It took only one knock on the door and we were let in.

"Ahh Mrs Gerard. I need a minute to examine your...humble abode." Sherlock pushed past her and immediately steered towards the kitchen. He looked around, as if searching for something and then disappeared.

"The cat food has always been outside, I take it." he called back.

"Y-yes how did you-" Mrs Gerard's expression changed to show confusion.

"Fairly straightforward: there are trails of cat food on the patio and...the wood panelling just opposite the door is worn from extensive use, so someone's been outside a lot."

"Excuse him," I muttered, "he likes to pry."

"Don't apologise for me, John. I am capable of conversing with other human beings." Sherlock was by the window, looking out. The cat food had been taken in after the disappearance of a seemingly large amount of it.

"May I?" Sherlock picked up the bag as if to sniff it.

"Of course!" she said so he did.

"Interesting...John!" I looked up.

"Come here, tell me what you smell." I obeyed and smelled the cat food. Nothing.

"I can't smell anything."

"Exactly. No iron, no alkali, no acid, no sugar, no salt...it's like baby food; it doesn't really affect the digestive tract...Is your Khao Manee a healthy cat?"

"Yes, she is a very healthy cat and we didn't buy the food here, they sent it to us as a gif-" she tried to say but Sherlock interrupted.

"Of course! The cat food came with the cat. Ooooh this is such a perfect case, don't you think?" he looked at me expectantly.

"Yes-no...what?" I frowned at him.

"The cat food came with the cat! Now think, why would a cat breeder insist on providing you with cat food?"

"He's trying to ensure that the cat eats something specific." I paused.

"Or doesn't eat something." Sherlock added "What could be damaged by normal cat food? Or, I'll make it easier for you: what could be damaging in normal cat food?"

"I don't have a clue, I've never owned a cat." I said apologetically.

"Luckily for you," he looked at me "I've had a Burmese. This cat is from Thailand is it not?" he looked at Mrs Gerard. She nodded reluctantly.

"You had a cat-" I attempted to say.

"Yes, yes. What you need to know is that the pH of most cat foods is around 5.5 so that is relatively low. What is so valuable you'd want to protect it with anything you've got?" his eyes searched me.

"I don't know, Sherlock!" I raised my voice unintentionally. Mrs Gerard flinched and chose to leave the room at that moment.

"Come on, John, you're a doctor. What do people hide in their digestive tract so no one will know?" he asked calmly. I wracked my brain for an answer...what, what, what. Oh!

"Drugs." I answered and Sherlock smiled appreciatively.

"Now you've got it." he said.

"So the breeder was smuggling drugs in cats and he gave the buyers cat food that would not affect the drug bundles in any way until they were back in the real "buyer's" hands."

"The person that requested the drugs." Sherlock corrected me and nodded. He picked up the cat food to put it back where it had stood and when he set it down, something scratched the floor. He immediately picked it up again and examined the base.

"Ohhhh. Clever, clever, clever." he chuckled.

"What?" I asked curiously now.

"A tracker. This is how they knew where the cats would be." he explained and straightened himself.

"So what do we do now?" I asked cautiously.

"We wait." he put the cat food outside and sat down on the couch.

"You're not saying we're going to wait for the drug dealer to steal more cat food?" I shuddered at the thought.

"Of course we are. You're a soldier. You'll manage." he grinned and I sighed, sitting down next to Sherlock.

"Fine." I said and Sherlock turned to me "So now the game is afoot."

"Believe me, John, the game already is afoot." he winked and sank back into the couch, watching the sky lose its colour...


End file.
